


Terram

by ind1go_ink



Series: Fake AH Crew - Power Plays [1]
Category: Game Grumps, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anxiety, GTA AU, Gen, Other, Slice of Life, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drinks are disturbed, and Michael has a heist hiccup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terram

**Author's Note:**

> Just a real short idea for the introduction into HOW Michael came to be in the Fake AH Crew.  
> This AU will have crossovers too, so look out for those. They won't also be totally obvious [coughs].  
> This'll be added onto, eventually.

~3 years ago~

One of the reasons Chris let his pub become what was essentially a hideout for Los Santos’ criminals was because of the protection it offered. The crims - and there were some big names some nights - were quiet drinkers, generally. They went from vertical to horizontal without much fuss, didn’t damage the property on a constant basis, they always paid well and no one ever robbed him. The more well-established criminals all got intense about having their drinks disturbed by any newbies in the area.

So, he was surprised when the door flew open and two young-looking men rushed in, brandishing pistols like they were swords.

'Don’t fuckin’ move! Move and you die!

‘Wot he said!’'

The robbers stopped at the bar. To their surprise their entrance hadn’t caused much of a stir.

‘Someone shut that door, it’s letting the wind in,’ A voice growled from the back, where it was so murky that even when one of the boys peered into the dark, he couldn’t discern the man. ‘And lock it.’ The voice added, sounding closer.

The two boys looked around. As their vision adjusted to the ever-present murkiness, they received a strong impression of weaponry, with undertones of scarring. No one was moving, the occupants were all staring at them.

‘You boys new here?’ Chris offered a tight smile to the newcomers, buffing a glass with a slightly dishevelled dishrag.

‘Shut up!’ The bolder of the two screamed, waving - rather unsteadily - his pistol in Chris’ face. ‘All the money in the bag! Or you’ve got a dead barman.’ He announced to the room. He was wearing a bear mask.

‘Plenty of other bars around here,’ The same voice from before sounded. It appeared to be the spokesperson for the other figures scattered through the room.

Chris didn’t look up from the glass he was buffing. ‘I know that was you, Geoff,’ he said quietly. ‘That’ll be an extra three fifty for the whiskey.’

The two boys drew together. Hold ups never went like this, were never so _calm_. They both fancied they could hear the various clickings of safety hammers being pulled back.

Another voice spoke up. ‘Haven’t I met you before?’ This one was distinctly female.

‘Oh god,’ The bear mask came off, revealing red curly locks and a pale face dusted with freckles and a furious scowl. ‘It’s her,’ He spoke to the other boy, who was maskless. ‘The cute girl who strung me up for cash!’

‘I didn’t think you were a crim!’ The girl went on.

‘Appearances can be deceptive, _love_.’ The second boy spoke up, a heavy British accent rolling off his tongue.

The two boys were so close together that they looked like they should have been renting a room instead of trying, and as it seemed, failing to hold up the place. The red-head moved suddenly, grabbed Geoff and hauled him upright. A flash of tattooed arms glanced across the side of the red-head’s vision before he was glaring into the gloom.

‘We walk outta here unharmed, alright? Or this guy gets it.’

Someone sniggered.

‘I hope you won’t kill him.’ said a deep voice. It sounded like it should have a beard attached to it.

‘That’s up to us!’

‘Was I talking to you?’ The voice replied, heavy with amusement.

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Geoff. He looked around to make sure his boss wasn’t around, and sighed. ‘C’mon guys, lets get this over with, shall we?’

Aware that something was off, but not being sure as to what it was, the would-be thieves edged towards the door. No one made a move as they unlocked the door, and still holding Geoff, stepped out into the night, shutting the door behind them.

‘Hadn’t we better help?’ asked an intern who was new to the crew.

‘They don’t deserve help,’ The bearded voice replied.

There were a few scuffling noises, the pow of an gun being shot, and a scream, right outside the door. And then another scream. And another infused with various cuss words.

The man who’d spoken, who indeed did have a beard, turned to Griffon. ‘You and Geoff,’ he said. ‘You, er, alright?’

‘Fine, thanks Jack.’

‘Some of the crew thinks there may be… problems.’

There was a wet slapping noise, followed by a gurgle.

‘We work around them.’ Griffon raised her voice.

‘I hear his dad’s not happy with him about leaving the military.’

‘His family is… very law-abiding. They tend not to involve themselves with crime. They think it’s for weak-minded people.’

‘He’s pretty uptight, from what I’d heard.’

‘He wants to stay working for Burnie. He likes the excitement.’

From outside came another gurgle. A face was mashed against the window. The owner left bloody streaks down the glass as he was pulled away.

‘Not for me to judge.’

‘No, Jack. It’s not.’

After a five minute interval of silence, Geoff stepped inside, kicking something heavy aside and massaging his knuckles. Everyone in the room except for Jack and Griffon took a course in advanced floor-study.

‘Just some abrasions. Maybe a broken rib. Though, the red-head did shoot the Brit in the leg.’ said Geoff, sitting back down with a chuckle.

‘Mark it up as self-inflicted on the police reports when they go through.’ Griffon muttered into a wireless headset.

‘Self-inflicted? They tried to hold up a criminal joint and took the King-Pin hostage.’ Jack began.

‘Exactly.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Jack said. ‘Self-inflicted. Of course.’

‘See if we can’t get them a test, too. They seemed reasonably coordinated till they tripped in here. I think they just need some reining in is all.’ Geoff’s eyes were glinting dangerously, and Jack and Griffon shared a weary look. It looked as though the King-Pin had some plans for the two wannabes.

 

~Present~

It started with a convenience store robbery gone awry.

Michael “Mogar” Jones had managed to get in _just_ fine, but when it came time to vacate the area, he was stuck. Cops were covering both front and back entrances, but he was a no hostage-taker, and had subsequently blown a hole in the side of the store, and through a few cops too. He’d let the old man take cover with him.

Now he was on the run, his backpack with the money in it weighing heavy on his back. The old dude hadn’t had much - a couple of hundreds and a secret thousand dollar wad of bills he’d given to Michael with trembling hands. He slowed when he deemed it far enough away from the scene, tripping himself into a walking pace, the hand inside his jacket - that had been caressing a grenade - returning to his side as he pulled the bear mask off, stuffing it hurriedly inside his jacket.

He was on one of the side-streets leading to the main road, eyes scanning the road for signs of any witnesses. It appeared to be safe, but when he logged into his earpiece, he could hear the shriek of sirens.

‘WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!’ Vav’s voice screamed at him down the line, making Michael wince.

‘Look, there was a situation, I dealt with it. Chill, dude. We got the money, didn’t we?’

‘You fucking twat! I thought you’d died! Stupid move, _Mogar_.’ The sneer in his words made Michael grit his teeth.

'Shut up, moron. You want your damn cut or not? Not that you _did_ anything.'

'Aw, c’mon Mikey. Meet me at The Crown at nine.'

He ripped the earpiece out as he heard the Brit move, lip curling as he stared at the pavement. _Fucking dick thinks ‘cause he coordinates everything he deserves the cut. **I’m** the one that gets the brunt of the shit!_ He felt a familiar sensation as the skin across his chest tightened, and took a deep breath as he walked, eyes constantly scanning the areas around him. He couldn’t lose it now. Not when he was so close to achieving his goal.

His jaw clenched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he spun around, coming face to face with a girl he’d never met. She had a relatively cheery smile on, black hair with a blonde streak and heavy makeup. It seemed to suit her.

She also had huge heels on. Michael doubted the usefulness of them, but shrugged it off, aware of how the sun wasn’t far off on the horizon, and of the money burning a hole into his back.  
'Hey! I was wondering if you could help me? I’m kinda lost,' She smiled again, and Michael tried to turn his scowl into something a little more friendly.

'Where you headed?'

'Oh, Amarillo Vista,'

Something spiked down Michael’s spine, trying to get his attention. He brushed it off.

'Oh, just head down this street three blocks, take a right and then a left and you’ll be on Amarillo.' He smiled through clenched teeth, and the girl nodded, swaying past him. His eyes followed her. She wasn’t too bad-looking, he had to admit.

He shook himself out of the momentary haze and continued walking, the sting of memory forgotten.


End file.
